Softly folded

A meteor shower, frozen

asleep on the empty road

I gauge the feeling on my arm, how cold

the pulse of the night wind

give me a homeland

this ancient crooked tree

no one replaces you

give me a homeland

my lips are chilled

dreaming

The fear poet

Despite his failing mind, he knew the doctors were selling him the glow of cat eyes in the dark.

He knew. The green fluorescent flies had told him as they clinked Morse against the dying bulb. He pulled at his chain and smiled. The dog nearby wore a blank stare .

“Go away! When they’re through they’ll make a monkey out of you.”he shouted. The dog gritted his mirrored fangs and his orange eyes grow more incandescent.

He smiled wryly for the attendants to come in and sing like shattering glass over a glossy lake.